Scorched
by Bleeding Prose
Summary: After a very mysterious disappearance, Mello returns a year later changed in more ways than one. Now he has to manage the attentions of Mr. Wammy and the Mafia, both of which have fallen to him after his parents' death. However, Matt has a habit of hacking into places he shouldn't be and finds himself intricately involved in all of Mello's secrets. [AU] Mello/Matt Slash Yaoi
1. Oh My God of War!

Summary: After a very mysterious disappearance, Mello returns a year later changed in more ways than one. Now he has to manage the attentions of Mr. Whammy and the Mafia, both of which have fallen to him after his parents' death. However, Matt has a habit of hacking into places he shouldn't be and finds himself intricately involved in all of Mello's secrets.

Pairing: Mello/Matt

Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Crime, Suspense, Friendship.

Warnings: Angst, Sarcasm, Humor, Gang/Mafia Affiliation, Violence, PTSD, Language, Murder, Addictive Personality Disorder, Burn Trauma, Scarring, General Teenage Situations, _Possible_ Mentions of Sex…also, Slow Build.

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**A/N: So, it's not as heavy as some of these warnings make it seem, but I want to be sure everyone is properly warned just in case. Although, we're all fans of the series so I'm pretty sure everyone knows what they're getting into. Nothing I write could be any stronger content-wise than the actual manga/anime. Yes, this is boy on boy romance. I wanted to write a story about self discovery and healing and first love. So, for the record I do have a plot, but the entire story is pretty much driven by character development of the Mello/Matt variety.**

**The cover was made by Me, however the photo of the burning house was open domain, so I don't own it. Please check it out and let me know if you like it, it was a bitch to make the Title look like fire! XD**

**Note, I did a lot of research into many aspects of Burn Trauma and the Mafia and whatnot, however this is a work of fiction so don't put too much faith in anything. Also, for the record I swear on Mello's fine ass that I don't own Death Note (just in case any of you had any weird ideas).**

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Scorched

Chapter 0: Oh My God Of War!

* * *

Matt isn't the kind of kid who listens in on peoples' conversations, especially if those people were his harebrained classmates. In fact, he's the kind of kid who sits in the back with the other antisocial losers and consciously avoids social interaction with his peers, therefore avoiding the nerve grating conversations—if you could call that unrefined blather conversation. Sure, the school counselor constantly hounds him and has left him her card about a hundred times… you know, in case he "wants to talk".

Today the idiots in the hallway—ahem, his classmates—were chattier than usual. He was surrounded by a flurry of whispers and huddled discussions. Not that he got caught up in all that shit. No siree, he was busy playing through Crisis Core on his PSP for the fourth time. The lunch room was in complete and utter chaos, getting to his secluded table in the corner was harder than usual, you know, since everyone has lost the ability to talk and sit at the same time. Assholes.

He loved this corner. The table wasn't actually supposed to be there but the teachers took pity on him—or something—and let him move it. The light above his head was constantly damaged; sometimes it even flickered eerily. The best thing was that it was so far away from the throng of social animals (sometimes referred to as students) that no one wanted to sit there. They'd be too far away from their friends.

Of course, there was that incident a few months ago… Some nerdy new kid thought that just because he was alone he wanted company. Let's just say that he got the message, to put it nicely. He was too traumatized to try keeping him company again, and scurried off to the table where those nameless pimply kids sat at.

He didn't bother eating anything, not only was the cafeteria food disgusting but he'd much rather spend his free time conquering his PSP. Matt was too busy kicking ass to eat. Of course, there are times when his bodily needs begin to interfere with his game play—that's when he knows he has to do something about it.

Like now, for instance. He pulled an all-nighter beating Zelda: Twilight Princess for the Wii… again. Of course it didn't occur to him once that he might need to ingest something edible, preferably with some sort of nutrimental value. He sighed, put his PSP in sleep mode and slipped it into his back pocket. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and tried to navigate through the ocean of mindless mass. It's was pretty damn hard.

Something's got their knickers all twisted up… he doesn't care. So what if it was rude to shove people out of your way? There's only so many times one can say 'excuse me' without sounding like a sissy. As if Jesus himself had bestowed his presence among them, the cafeteria fell into complete silence, at least for a moment before breaking out into even more frenzied chatter. This time he knew why, though.

Standing between him and the only exit out of there was Mello, back to school after a very mysterious disappearance a year ago. One day he was there and the next he wasn't. It goes without saying that these morons—cough—people had many theories about his Houdini act. 'He was kidnapped,' seemed to be the most popular one, followed closely by 'He eloped with his secret lover,' and 'He was disowned by his family.'

Obviously Matt knew they were wrong, but not even he could think of a half decent excuse. And here he was now, the answer unmistakably on his face.

"Mello, what happe—" Matt's head whipped around, following his movements as he totally ignored him. "Asshole."

He wanted to turn back, to follow him and hear his sweet voice for the first time in a year… a little over a year, if he was correct. And he always was, thanks to his elephantine memory. After all the worry, stress, and pain he put him through Matt wasn't going to trail after him like a lost puppy, especially not after he just blew him off like that. He has things to do anyway. If Mello wants to talk then he should do something about it instead of ignoring someone he once called "his best friend".

"Best friend, my ass," he grumbled as he exited the school through the back entrance. Matt didn't believe it then, they had hardly known each other for a month, but he definitely doesn't believe it now.

He took a comfortable seat under the outdoor bleachers overlooking the football field. From his backpack he took out his pack of cigarettes and his favorite Zippo lighter, the one with the Triforce on the front. Yeah, that's just how he rolls. Lighting up quickly and naturally, he took a deep drag, letting the acrid smoke fill his lungs. It was a chilly—who's he kidding, _freezing cold_—February day but he warmed up quickly. The cigarette would put off his hunger until later, long enough to raid the fridge at home.

He told himself not too. He tried to force his mind away from such a dangerous topic but he just couldn't. Not now. He could recall the last day he spent with Mello perfectly. It was September 24th and the leaves were just beginning to change, it was a cloudy, wet day but Mello was as bright as sunshine… in his eyes anyway. He must be a little biased, you know, considering how head over heels he was for the guy. But on the not-so-bright side, everyone was head over heels for Mello. Yippee…

* * *

_Mello. He is so cool he only has one name. Like Madonna. And like Madonna he's also a total diva. Matt watched him trying to cross the room, noticing the way he soaked up the attention like a sponge. Occasionally he made small talk with a person or two but eventually he made it to his destination. Matt, of course. _

_He couldn't explain how it happened. Matt was never very polite or social but one day Mello just kind of appeared in his life and for once Matt didn't feel like it was better to be alone. Mello was the most charismatic person he knew. Everyone at school liked him and gladly let him be the center of attention. He talked to anyone that would listen and he attracted peoples gazes like a magnet. You know, if a magnet was as beautiful as a Botticelli angel. He was an Adonis in a modern time and he knew it. He embraced it, even. _

_So why would someone who could have the world in the palm of his hand want to spend his time with someone like him? Matt was afraid to say this out loud; it might be the thing that brings Mello to his senses. Any sensible person would not find his company pleasurable, considering his interests consist of only one thing. Video games. At least, until recently. Maybe now it's two things. Video games and Mello. _

"_Andrea invited me to a party tonight." He said, eating his chocolate pudding instead of the rest of his cafeteria bought lunch. _

"_I thought we were going to hang out tonight," Matt muttered, still feeling as unsure around Mello as day one. _

"_Well, duh. I told her no, but you know how she is. I had to agree to 'try' just to get away! Are we still going to the mall?" Pudding cup, depleted. Mello looked almost sad as his spoon yielded no pudding. The sadness was only momentary; a second later a fresh and crisp Hershey bar was pulled out of his messenger bag. A diet consisting of 87 percent chocolate just cannot be considered healthy; not that he was one to talk. He forgets to eat on a regular basis. _

"_Hell yes! Today is the release date for the new Resident Evil. I pre-ordered it." Mello chuckled, as if pre-ordering is a joke. "Plus I need new stripes."_

"_Stripes? Come on, you look like a zebra already." Apparently the look on Matt's face had the desired effect. "Okay, whatever."_

_Matt, however, was not dumb enough to be fooled. It was more than obvious that Mello was planning to change his dumpy wardrobe for something more "fashionable"… or something. Personally, Matt loves his clothes. Mostly they're a bunch of multi-sized horizontal striped shirts. Sure, he owns a few pairs of lack luster jeans and some dress pants Roger had given him for that thing they had last year. It should go without saying that they were accompanied by a striped shirt and green tinted goggles. _

"_Hey, Matt."_

"_What?" No, he wasn't mad or purposely trying to be rude. He's just unsure of how to maintain conversation, it's not like there's much of _that_ going on at his house. Mello understands… or at least, he thinks Mello understands. Maybe Mello will get tired of his poor people skills and leave to find someone with more experience. Crap, there he goes again… _

"_You know that Linda girl?" Mello didn't even wait for him to mutter a reply, since they both know the answer is no. "Anyway, she told Katie who told, well, everyone that she likes you!" _

"…" _What was he supposed to say? He had no idea who Linda or Katie was, and frankly he's not too keen to find out. _

"_So?"_

"_So what?" _

"_Come on! This is supposed to raise your self esteem!" shouted Mello, barely containing his frustration. "You're so sure that no one likes you! And now—" _

"_I don't care if they like me or not."_

"_I _know_ that! But you always seem to think you're such an unlikeable person, when you're not. Well, most of the time." Seeing the look on his face Mello gave up on the whole you're-better-than-you-know speech. _

_Matt would have replied—really, he would have—but he was still stuck on the fact that Mello doesn't think he's 'unlikeable'. It's too unbelievable to be true. He could clearly remember the time Mello blew a gasket because I talked more to my Tomb Raider game than to him… Matt and Lara don't see much of each other anymore. _

_Okay, maybe he'll let Mello pick out a shirt or something… if it wasn't completely horrible. He's seen some of the clothes in Mello's closet and he just has to say they look horrible. At least until Mello puts them on. In any case, Matt has no doubt in the world that Mello's favorite feathered jacket would look like crap on him. _

* * *

_He was supposed to meet Mello at the food court at six in front of the smoothie store. He was huddled in a booth playing old Gameboy games on his hacked iPhone. It was awesome, to say the least. At home he munched on some toast, played two and a half hours of World of Warcraft before rushing to get dressed and get to the mall on time. He got there at ten after six and Mello was nowhere in sight. It's six thirty-eight and Matt's sipping a smoothie and leveling up his pokemon before fighting the next gym leader. There's nothing like good old Pokemon Yellow to lift the spirits. _

"_Sorry I'm late! I had dinner with my parents for the first time in forever!" Mello threw himself carelessly on the booth opposite of him and tried to steal a sip of his Strawberry-Banana-Kiwi smoothie. Matt slapped his hands away before saving his game. _

_From what Mello had told him his parents like to work. A lot. And it seems to pay off. They live in an obviously expensive house that's decorated to '_Fine Living' _perfection, and if he wasn't mistaken it had been featured in that very magazine a few years ago. They're always away on "business" when Matt comes over, so he's never actually met them. There are a few photos around the house though, including a family portrait over the fireplace in the living room—total, cliché— where they look too happy to be true. _

"_How was it?" he asked, knowing that Mello loved his family. Not that he'd ever say it out loud; it's just noticeable in the way he talks about them. _

"_Awesome." Mello contemplated whether or not to tell him what's on his mind for a few seconds before a cat-like grin split his face. "They want to take me with them to work tonight, you know, to show me how it's done." _

"_That's cool. So you're excited?"_

"_Yeah, I can't wait. I have to be home by eight, though. So we don't have much time." Mello popped out of the seat like his butt was on fire. Matt checked. It wasn't. His face was, though. He placed his smoothie-chilled hands to his cheeks before standing up as well._

_He followed as Mello weaved through the groups of people, tacitly making his way to GameStop. He chatted animatedly at Matt's side, knowing that he was listening was enough to keep the blonde talking a mile a minute. Matt felt comfortable knowing that he wasn't expected to be as talkative as his friend was, he was perfectly fine with listening even though he didn't care about the properties of car engines… well, not unless it's in Need for Speed. _

_He got his game and paid in record time—he didn't even get to browse! Mello had grabbed his elbow and was pulling him up and down escalators to the other side of the mall before being dragged into a dark and spooky looking store. _

"_It's not Halloween yet!" Matt cried out, noticing the skull motifs on the walls and ceiling. _

"_This is _not_ a Halloween store! It's an alternative clothing store."_

"…_like Hottopic?" The look Mello sent him made him wish he didn't ask that question. It's funny; he's never felt stupid before now. Usually he's the one giving people the _are-you-an-idiot_ glare. _

"_Sort of, but not really. I buy most of my clothes here!" _

"_Trust me, I can tell," Matt mumbled, mostly to himself. Mello overheard him with his freaky supersonic hearing. It's a wonder he could hear anything over this (very) heavy music. Matt was more of a techno fan himself. _

"_What's that supposed to mean?" Matt opted not to answer; that seemed like a lose-lose type of question. It appeared like no answer was the right answer; he sighed in relief. "Anyways, there are tons of stripes here. I even saw striped pants here once. Thank god they're long gone." _

_Matt gave him a mock glare and followed as Mello picked things frantically from every shelf, telling him to try them on. _

"_But this shirt is _green_!" _

"_Just try it on!" _

_Matt will say this only once and hope it's made clear to the world at large: Mello is a shopping maniac. Just nod in agreement and do as he says and you might make it out alive. _

_In the end Matt ended up leaving more than three-fourths of the clothes behind; Mello was right about one thing, they had tons of stripes. He bought a black and blue striped scarf, and a red and black striped shirt, and a purple and blue stripped beanie. He also bought some black jeans, at Mello's suggestion. He referred to them as "skinny" jeans, and boy were they skinny! In a good way. Matt also noticed the store had an ample stock of leather, lots of it, and Mello eyed it like a kid at a candy store. _

_Mello offered to drive him home and Matt accepted just to spend a bit more time with him. Their time at the mall seemed too short but Mello promised that he'd call tomorrow with fresh plans, and Matt felt excitement build up within him. Mello hadn't actually gotten his driver's license yet, but he'd be turning sixteen in December… not that that makes it any less illegal. Honestly, he didn't look like he was an a tenth grade student trying not to get caught by the police; he looked like he belonged behind the wheel. _

"_So this is where you live, huh?" Mello asked, leaning over the passenger seat to get a good look at the house through the window. Mello hasn't ever been to his house; Matt's afraid he'd meet his weird family and hit the ground running. "Nice." _

"_I guess." _

_Mello looked at him funny for a minute. 'Funny' because he had never seen that expression on his face before. _

"_I'm sorry," he said finally. _

What for?_ Matt was going to ask but wasn't given the chance to. _

_Mello kissed him. On the lips. His heart stopped in his chest, before beating faster than a hummingbird on redbull. It didn't last very long, his lips were gone too soon, before his brain was able to process the fact that he was supposed to kiss back. _

"…" _It was nice, he decided, and Mello didn't have to feel sorry. With the brightest smile that has ever graced Matt's face he said goodnight. _

_For once it _was_ a goodnight. Matt sleep peacefully knowing that Mello promised to call tomorrow… that is, unless he regrets it. The kiss. Damn. He really needs to have more faith in himself. Mello kissed _him_. _

_Oh my God-of-War. Mello just kissed him. _

* * *

Mello never called him, Matt couldn't help but recall bitterly. He spent the weekend wondering if he'd finally managed to scare Mello away with his horrible kissing skills. When he wasn't at school on Monday he wondered if he was avoiding him. When he hadn't returned to school the next week Matt was sure he messed it up somehow. By the third week Matt was truly worried. He finally managed to build up the courage to call Mello's cell only to find it disconnected. He passed by his house after school one day to find it completely abandoned; there were dust covers on the furniture and everything!

It took a few months to realize he wasn't coming back and it took even longer for Matt to get over it. Over him. It was illogical to be so completely enraptured by someone he's known for such a short amount of time, he would tell himself. Eventually it worked. Mello disappeared to do whatever Mellos do and left him behind. He didn't even say goodbye. Besides, it's easier to be angry than it is to feel hurt and abandoned. He didn't have to say it out loud for everyone to know that Mello was Matt's only friend. It was as obvious as the sky was blue… or in their case, overcast. They hadn't seen a sunny day since earlier in the year.

A frown weighed heavily on his face as he angrily put out the stub of his cigarette. He'll admit he felt a bit of hope at finally seeing him again today, but that was quickly and cruelly snuffed out in an instant. Mello had acted as if he didn't even know him. Matt considers himself to look exactly the same as last year. So if Matt could recognize him even after reappearing with a very nasty looking scar taking up half his face, Mello should be able to recognize Matt even after he ditched his green goggles for orange ones.

Just saying.

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A/N: Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed this. The story starts off pretty slow, and this is technically sorta a prologue, so hang on with me. I know you have all heard this before, but please please PLEASE leave me a review. **I am just starting to work through a 3 year long hiatus and I really need to know what you think to keep me motivated.** If you have any questions, please ask! I'll always answer to the best of my ability without giving away any spoilers. Also, I really appreciate constructive criticism. If you see any mistakes in spelling, grammar, or sentence structure please let me know so I can fix it immediately.

_**Please review and subscribe to this story, for the sake of Matt's high score in Pac-Man. Do it for the high score!**_


	2. We Have Chemistry

**AN: Happy Valentines Day! I hope everyone celebrated exactly the way they wanted to. I for one spent the day failing a calculus test, drinking coffee nonstop, downloading free kindle books, and editing this chapter! Woo-hoo! Fear not, dear readers, for I am not alone! I have two ferrets who are currently showing their love by stealing my shoes and biting my toes! **

**Enjoy the chapter! **

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Scorched

Chapter 1: We Have Chemistry

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It was just his luck that the "quick stop" at the front office turned into an all morning thing. They were just supposed to pick up his class schedule but one question from the school counselor turned into a whole interview, the principal was quickly involved, and suddenly it was a not-so-cozy gathering of all the authority figures he'd come to hate. His social worker explained his "case" as if he weren't even there and he could feel the responding looks of pity as they stared at his face, remembering what he was just a year ago and comparing it to what he's become.

He scowled. For hours. His social worker filled out the required documents and made sure his transcripts were up to date. By the time the October Chat-Fest was wrapping up, the other students were already migrating to the lunch room and he was feeling that familiar sinking sensation in his stomach… he didn't want to go in there but the Principle and Counselor Smiles-a-lot were urging him on, telling him he'd have plenty of time to reunite with his friends.

Are they blind? Are they stupid enough to believe that those people would still worship the ground he walked on with a face as horrendous as his? Idiots. The lot of them.

"Now Mello, please don't cause any trouble. It's hard enough finding someone to take you in without you making it harder on yourself," Mrs. Laurel pleaded making eye contact, as if that would help. "Now if you have any problems you have my phone number."

As if he'd ever call _her;_ if he were dying in a ditch with only enough battery for one phone call she'd still be the last person he'd call. If it weren't for her he wouldn't even be here in the first place, he could probably graduate in a month if he were still receiving private tutoring, but seeing as he's all healed up now he had no choice but to return to his appropriate grade level.. He has no choice in anything now that he's a ward of the state.

Let's just say Mello was not a happy camper, and after entering the cafeteria he's a straight-up homicidal camper—like that guy from Friday the 13th. How horrible is it that upon entering the cafeteria the first thing he sees is the one thing he's determined to ignore? It appears Matt was exiting the cafeteria, but upon seeing him his sleepy green eyes widened and his mouth opened in what he assumed was to convey some sort of caring gesture. He didn't stick around long enough to find out. The last thing he needed was socially awkward Matt trying to make _him_ feel better.

His heart was pounding fast and hard, threatening to break through his chest and causing him to breathe deeply in a vain attempt to calm his pulse. Mello knew seeing him again would be bad, but damn—just looking at him almost put him into cardiac arrest!

Mello was always a stunner. Except back then he used to shock them with his beauty and now they look at him like some undead zombie freak. His eyes narrowed in a heart stopping sweat inducing glare, zoning in on every idiot who whispered his name conspiratorially to their friends. He gives himself 2 days before punching someone in the gut.

Seeing who he was looking for he made a bee-line to the currently designated cool table. The same brain-dead people, once his loyal minions, were sitting there. He knew what he'd come back to, he held no delusions that these petty people would welcome him back with open arms and follow him just as they had before. That is why he's going straight up to them; it's all part of the plan, you see. Before it took so little to get them under his belt, but now he'll have to show them just what kind of a leader he really is. Think of it as practice for the near future.

Slamming his hands on the table caused them all to jump.

"Surprised to see me?" he asked with a cocky smirk on his lips. It was twisted and mangled by the atrocity that was the left side of his face, no longer causing flirtatious giggles and heated blushes.

"Mello! Where have you been hiding out?" He fixed his eyes on the jock that seemed to have stepped up as alpha male in his absence. What was his name? Ryan? Bryan? Brad? Just-Another-Nonspecific-Bastard?

"You know, here and there." Mello took a seat, feeling his excitement rise at their obvious discomfort. He can't wait to make them sweat.

* * *

In the distance Matt could hear the bell ring, signaling the end of their lunch period. He decided he could wait a minute or two to finish his cigarette before heading to class. They had three more classes in the afternoon, but he doubted they'd pass quickly enough for his tastes. Reluctantly, he stood up and almost hit his head on the bleachers. He pulled his goggles over his eyes and suddenly the world was a happy golden tinted place.

At least, it was until he entered the chemistry lab. The lingering smell in the air let him know that they were going to do a lab of some sort, something so incredibly pointless it'll make him want to pour acid onto his skin drop by drop for something to do. Well, that or play his PSP under the table.

He had a table to himself in the last row. They were supposed to sit in pairs, two to a black top table, but being who he is enabled him to fly solo. He never works with partners, it just causes frustration and wastes time considering the fact that no one else can tell the difference between K2SO4 and Na2O… though the big annotation on the board saying 'Potassium Sulfate= K2SO4' and 'Sodium Oxide= Na2O' should be a tip off.

"Good afternoon. Please take your seats so I can explain today's lab." Ms. Holland was a strict elderly woman with a sugary sweet façade. Don't let it fool you, one mistake and she'll bite your head off. Take today for example, some poor idiot made it to class five minutes late.

Whoops. That poor idiot was Mello.

"What exactly were you doing that caused you to disregard the late bell?" Mello grumbled something that he couldn't hear. It mustn't have been too nice because Ms. Holland's face crinkled up and even her wrinkles were glowering. "This is your only warning! One more tardy without a written excuse and you will be serving after school detention!"

Matt never works with partners. He doesn't want to and he doesn't need to. Yet as Mello glanced over the room looking for a table he couldn't help but feel a little jolt in his chest at the prospect of sitting next to him. Mello sat next to someone who he used to hang out with last year. The guy played some sort of school sport that Matt couldn't bother himself with remembering. So sport guy didn't look too happy and was telling Mello that he couldn't sit there because absent-boy was his partner. One look from Mello and Jock-Strap looked about ready to call his mommy.

It was then that he noticed that the teacher had already finished explaining their lab and he hadn't heard a thing because he was completely and totally occupied by the hypnotism caused by the supernatural glow of Mello's hair. Not a problem, he decided, reading over the work sheet and noticing he could probably finish in no time.

Despite the cranky old gargoyle of a teacher and complete incompetence of his classmates, chemistry was his favorite class thanks to the simple fact that it was the only class where he could wear his goggles without retribution. So what if the mixture that was supposed to turn blue looked a little green through his eyes?

He twirled the beaker absentmindedly, counting to fifteen and watching Mello look bored. After that he filled out the worksheet absentmindedly while watching Mello look aggravated by his partner's mistake—in his defense anyone would get nervous and clumsy if Mello were watching them like a hawk all the while giving orders that he expected to be executed to perfection. Once he finished with his work he didn't hunch over and play his PSP under the desk, instead he sat watching Mello. Now that he thought about it his expression probably wasn't too friendly looking, it wasn't his fault he looks a little _intense_ (for lack of a better word) when he concentrates. The same thing happens during a boss battle!

The point is that Mello caught him staring with less than amicable facial features… which would probably explain the sneer he got as they exited the classroom just a few minutes later.

In the last year Matt has thought about what it would be like for Mello to return a few times, probably a few more times than mentally healthy but that's beside the point. Regardless of his feeble musings the reality of it is something he refuses to accept.

* * *

He was suffocating. In a room with hundreds of beady little eyes constantly glued on his face, one set of eyes felt like it weighed a ton, as if a physical weight was pressing down on him… _hard_. He struggled to breathe until suddenly and unexpectedly the weight just disappeared. He turned just in time to watch Matt exit the cafeteria. Making a conscious effort not gulp air like a fish on land he returned to his food as if nothing had happened. As if he didn't know that Matt hated the outdoors with a passion.

He could handle it. He could handle the way strangers turned on the street just to ogle at his scar. He could handle the way students openly stared until they noticed him glaring in their direction. He could handle the way people whispered as he passed by, sometimes not discreetly enough.

What Mello can't handle is the way Matt has been watching him all week (with no sign of it stopping any time soon). He can't handle the way his green eyes pierce through a crowd and straight into his soul. He can't handle the way he could very literally _feel_ his gaze without even looking. He definitely can't handle the way he can't read his expression. Mello can't handle not knowing what is going on through Matty's pretty red head as he stared him down.

Mello didn't like feeling this way. All conflicted and shit. On one hand the Mello he used to be wouldn't have a single reservation about tracking him down and getting some answers. On the other hand, he's not the same kid he was before. This Mello is very much afraid of the kind of answers he might get. He doesn't want to know if Matt has some sort of sick fixation with his deformity. Maybe it's time to follow the age old adage and not ask any questions he can't handle the answer to.

He fell into a ritual. One moment he's just fine and the next he's trying to act normal as the weight of a dozen suns try to crush him into the ground. Rule number one: don't make eye contact. Rule number two: don't watch Matt as he walks away. Rule number three: don't spend your free time wondering why the hell Matt has zeroed in on him. The last one was added later on in hopes that it would salvage the vestiges of his restraint.

It reached the point where Mello just didn't want to be subjugated to that kind of mind fuckery any more. One day, instead of taking his lunch to the cafeteria he took it with him on a leisurely stroll to the field. He sat on the chilly metal bleachers and hoped that it wouldn't snow any time soon. It was silent, the kind of silence he hasn't experienced for a while. His lunch was nothing more than a sub he bought on his way to school that morning and a bottle of water but despite having finished he just sat there. Doing nothing. And it felt good.

Too good to last anyway.

At the sound of leaves crunching he knew he wasn't alone any more. From the way his heart tried to make a suicide jump from his chest into the churning acids of his stomach he knew it had to be Matt.

"Go away. I was here first." Not very mature, but it was the only thing that managed to make it past Mello's lips.

"Yeah, well this is sort of my spot." A few footsteps later and there was total silence. Mello told himself not to turn his head to look at Matt, who should have been sitting not that far from him, but he did anyway and found that he was still alone on the bleachers.

Had he really gone? Just like that?

Then he heard a sound; it was disturbingly familiar yet somehow he couldn't place exactly what it was. He stood up and heard it again, coming from beneath the bleachers.

"Goddamn fucking wind."

The next time he heard it he found himself looking under the bleachers, watching as Matt lit up a cigarette and took it in deeply. He felt his face heat up. It wasn't because of the almost erotic sound Matt made as he took his first drag, Mello told himself once… twice… three times before he decided he shouldn't just stand there gawking like a child. It's not like he hasn't seen worse than someone lighting up on school grounds.

"Those things can kill you, 'ya know."

Matt exhaled through his nose looking straight at Mello's face. "As opposed to whatever gave you that?"

He elicited an almost physical reaction from Mello and immediately he could tell that Matt felt bad for hitting below the belt.

A tense silence stretched uncomfortably between them; each waiting for the other to say something that would ease the hurt inflicted on each other. _Silence_.

Suddenly—and surprisingly—Mello wanted to tell him that it wasn't the cigarettes. He wanted to tell him the whole story, everything he couldn't tell his psychiatrist when he was in the hospital. He wanted to and that scared him half to death—no one could know what happened September 25th. It was his burden to bear.

Mello needed to get out of there, leave campus and do anything—_anything_—but go back to that place again. He would have been half way out of the parking lot by now if Matt hadn't asked him to wait in the sweetest of voices he's heard in a long while.

"What's wrong with you?" Matt asked coarsely, though the second the words were out of his mouth he probably knew he should have worded that better.

"Same old Matt, _expert_ conversation starter." Deep down he knew Matt was completely hopeless and probably didn't mean it in a bad way, yet it still hit a nerve. Anger coursed through him and he told himself, not for the first time today, that nothing was wrong with him. That he was still perfect. Just like before, it didn't work. It _never_ worked.

"I meant _now_. You look panicky." Matt crawled out from under the bleachers, choosing to stand beside him. Mello hated how he noticed all the little changes in the other boy, since all it did was emphasized the greatest change in him.

"I am _not_ panicking!" he responded, almost shouting it defensively. This was not good. The last thing he needed is for Matt to start poking around in his life.

Mello knew Matt was rolling his eyes behind his goggles as he huffed in frustration, cigarette smoke clouding the air between them for a moment.

"Whatever! But something is wrong with you. You're going around acting like a total asshole to everyone and—and," he took a deep calming breath, the nicotine hitting him in a wave of comfort. "Fuck, I just wanted to help."

Matt stomped away in a huff of anger and cigarette smoke, leaving Mello wide-eyed in shock and vaguely wondering if Matt would remember to put out his cigarette before walking into the school. He heard the bell ring in the distance but he only made it far enough to collapse onto the bleachers.

Their failure of a conversation repeated on a loop through his head, and despite all that was said and done he was still hung up on one thing.

_Since when does Matt smoke? _

By now class was already underway and he just didn't want to go back and see Matt sitting alone at the back of the chem Lab. Decisively zipping up his vintage leather jacket he left the campus and walked, stopping only when he saw something that caught his eye; a shiny black motorcycle for sale. He was itching to buy it and normally he wouldn't have hesitated, but all of his parent's assets were frozen until he turns eighteen and can legally claim them.

"Soon," he told himself, but it wasn't soon enough.

* * *

**A/N: I will kindly point out to everyone to take special note of their first interaction, Mello really doesn't like Matt's new habit. ;) **

**Super special thanks to EVERYONE who reviewed the last chapter. I especially appreciate the people who took the time to give me very constructive reviews, they were some of the best reviews I've ever had. They really motivated me to write this chapter, and update at a resonable time. **

**For the sake of all the single people, I implore everyone to find it in their hearts to review and subscribe to this story. Reviews are 10 times better than chocolates!**


	3. Regression Session

**AN: Sorry for the late update and the sort of filler chapter, I was planning on adding a few more things to this but then I decided to save it for the next chapter or else I'd probably never update in a timely matter. :/ **

**Quick fact: I named the school Tickner Academy after Watari's English voice actor. I didn't particularly like the english dub (other than certain scenes you can't help but point and laugh at), but how could I not resist a name like that! French Tickner is such an illustrious name, I just had to name a prestigious school after it. lol **

* * *

Scorched

Chapter 2: Regression Session

* * *

The academy was one of the best schools in the country, catering to the intellectually gifted and the wealthy. Back in the fifties the school was established by the lauded philosopher French W. Tickner as a refuge for young geniuses looking for proper academic stimulation; however, over the years it devolved more into a school for children whose parents were motivated enough to bribe the higher-ups with ridiculous amounts of money. In fact, the I.Q. tests that were once standard before registration were now practically placement tests used to lump all the idiots together in one room. Mello despised the obvious lapse in selectivity, but he'd take the small blessings where he could.

Schools are the same no matter where you are. It's human nature to label others in order to form a workable social hierarchy. Mello has known that since his first day of preschool, but it took him quite a few years in order to analyze and work the rudimentary subconscious system to his favor. Once he set his mind to it Mello climbed to the top, swiftly becoming everyone's golden boy in no time. This absolute confidence led him to fearlessly socialize with his fellow students after transferring to F.W. Tickner Academy in the middle of his freshmen year. The way he sees it most people don't know what they want or who they are, but Mello has always been the complete opposite. He's a leader. He made them love him and in turn he got mindless adoration. The limelight was all his and he used it to his convenience. After all he doesn't care who he surrounds himself with as long as he gets to control the conditions of their friendship. But then he met Matt on August 18th, at the start of his sophomore year.

* * *

_After a summer of nothing but beach parties and long luxurious hours with some very expensive chocolate he was glad that the school year had finally begun. Unlike most people, he actually liked school. Don't let his blonde-bombshell appearance fool you, he was quite the intellectual when he wanted to be. He used the first few days of school to distance himself from the social leeches. It was easy to make them believe that he had to _try_ to get good grades, as if it were difficult. It was in the library one day that he noticed someone who also appeared to be hiding. The shag of his red hair covered his face, but that was the only thing Mello needed to identify the other boy. Last semester Matt was nothing more than a blip on his radar, a nerd who spent all his time striving for good grades. Yet here he was, cutting class in the furthest recesses of the library to play some handheld videogame. _

"_Shouldn't you be in class?" Mello asked, his voice a little too snobbish for his liking. He told himself he really needed to get new friends. _

_Without so much as glancing in his direction, Matt responded with his eyes still glued to his game. "Shouldn't you?"_

_Mello frowned. He doesn't like being ignored. As much as he hated most people's company, he loved their devotion. He spent precious time securing his position at the top of the social pyramid because he wants to be acknowledged by everyone; even people who don't hold any value in the realm of high school politics. _

"_I have a study period," he responded a little more politely even though the other boy never bothered to answer his previous question. "Do you?"_

"_No."_

"_Are you alright?" He questioned, managing to make himself sound mildly concerned. After all, someone had to be seriously ill for him to let them get away with talking to him so rudely._

"_Well…" Matt paused, and for a moment Mello thought he was actually going to give him something. For a moment. "I'm in the middle of fighting Sephiroth and you won't stop talking."_

_Mello was about to respond in righteous indignation, but then Matt started growling at his game. Normally he'd force the boy to acknowledge him, but for the first time he just really wasn't up to it. _

_In the passing days he couldn't help but notice that the other boy didn't have any friends, he didn't even talk to anyone unless asked a direct question. He didn't care that Mello had money, that his clothes were cool, or that he was smoking hot, and Mello hated how he was blown off every time he tried to talk to the boy. Like all red blooded human beings, he really-really-__really__ wanted what he could not have. So, honestly, Matt brought this all unto himself._

* * *

Matt was done lying to himself. He was normally a very honest person, some would say viciously so—the truth hurts baby—and the truth was he was practically drowning his pain. The more time that passed the more he realized that there has been more than just a physical change in his former friend. It surprised him how little time it took him to get over Mello, like _really_ get over him. Sort of. That's not the point; the point is that whereas Mello was always catty now he's plain hostile. Watching him was like watching Stalin rise to power. Most of the time he was silent, but it was more of a scary-serial-killer silence than a just-a-shy-kid kind of silence.

Most people didn't notice. Listening to gossip was something he never liked nor planned on doing, but apparently his Vulcan hearing was keenly attuned to all that had to do with Mello. Most of his life was spent in general apathy with regards to people, but now he's pretty sure he hates his schoolmates. Scratch that—_definitely_ sure. Lately all they could talk about was his scar; everyone had a different story as to how he got it. Then they'd talk about how sad it was that he was trying so hard to get back his friends. They all hated how much of a jackass he was being, but decided to let it go—out of the goodness of their hearts, he imagined, and _not_ in fear for their safety—even though it was obvious he was making everyone uncomfortable.

He was quite literally forcing people to like him. In theory it seemed so Mello, but in practice it did nothing but worry him. Like some of his favorite villains, Mello was a pro at using his charisma for evil. He also used his evil villain powers to ignore him like a boss. Really, if this were an RPG Mello would have used all his skill points to max it out. On the bright side, Matt discovered that he was not a big enough masochist to keep trying. It was surprisingly easy to accept the fact that the guy he called his bestie—or BFF, is you will—is not the same person who returned. He might have never even existed, he thought bitterly to himself.

So, maybe he was walking home with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie, looking like someone just shot his cat, but honestly Matt just really needed a cigarette. Just his luck that he ran out last night. Honestly, with the emotional rollercoaster that was his day he mentally patted himself on the back for making it through school. Especially since he's done nothing but recycle the same thoughts over and over… three guesses as to what they were. Okay, just because he finally found the boundaries denoting the end of his pansy-ass ways does not mean he's not stewing in all his unresolved feelings. Just don't ask him what those feelings are. He's a man; he'll just rub some dirt in it or something.

On the way to his house there was an old single pump gas station down a one-way road that looked like the scene of a possible homicide. The convenience store was small; everything creaked and smelled of mildew and tobacco, but it was probably the only place he'd never run into someone he knew. The last thing he needed was for some loudmouth to slip up in front of his parents—or technically _parent_ and Roger. If the chain smoking wasn't enough to guarantee an early death, he's sure the lecture he'd receive would be enough to make him do the job himself.

Behind the counter was an old man, practically bald but still clinging to the last few wisps of white hair. Like always Old Man Jenkins—his real name probably wasn't Jenkins, Matt just didn't care enough to actually find out—sneered at him, giving him a wonderful view of his blackened gums and rotted teeth. Even though he was a regular here, the cranky old man never failed to card him. Before even handing over his cigs, the old man would take his I.D. and inspect every inch of it with his cloudy eyes. So what if it was fake? After the debacle of his first bought fake I.D. Matt decided he could do better in his sleep. And he did. The result was perfect; no one would know the difference unless Matt told them so—improbable—or a family member got their grabby little hands on it. Even still, Old Man Jenkins was positive he was under age and refused to make it easy on him.

Irritably he handed Matt two cartons of his preferred brand, making sure to charge him extra. The hassle was always worth it in the end, so it never mattered what the geriatric did to try and put him off. With a smile and a pleasant 'see ya later'—Matt just wanted to see the vein in his forehead pop—he continued his horribly boring and inexcusably emo walk home. If he were just a little more emotionally unstable and wore eyeliner, he was sure he'd be followed around by a single dark cloud pouring rain constantly over his pathetic existence. Thank God he had _that_ much self-control.

* * *

Mello tried not to notice, but he has spent his entire life refining his observational skills. It was his ever increasing sense of hyper awareness that let him read people like a book and use them accordingly. During his last stint at Tickner he forcibly fixated himself on Matt, trying to work him to his advantage. But, like their first encounter, it was always hit-and-miss with him. Mello never really knew what he was thinking or what he wanted; and that was probably why he was such a good friend. Despite being a creature of habit and a stickler for routine, Matt always kept him guessing. Unsurprisingly after spending so much energy devoted to the guy, Mello still noticed everything. When he ate, how he walked, when he was actually paying attention in class or sneakily playing his PSP under the table; he tried not to, but he always noticed.

This was how he noticed almost immediately when Matt gave up on him. The furtive looks across the room, the half smiles when they crossed paths, the defensiveness when Matt encountered someone talking smack about him all stopped. Slowly, but undeniably Matt was forgetting about him. Sure, Mello was practically asking for it. His rational side was telling him that this was what he wanted all along. Mello pushed _him_ away, not the other way around. After the accident, it took him months to piece himself back together, and even then he was barely in working order. That said, it has always been obvious that he couldn't risk rekindling his friendship with Matt. As long as he stayed away Mello was secure in the knowledge that he was invulnerable. He could deal with everyone else treating him differently, but not Matt.

He told himself to follow in Matt's footsteps and stop dwelling. It took conscious effort, but he managed not to watch the other boy during lunch. During their shared chemistry class it was easier to keep his focus to the front of the room, mostly because he took it all out on his incompetent lab partner. This Brad fellow put on a tough front, but he buckled so easily under his management that Mello wondered if there ever was any substance at all. Nothing but an insect, like the rest of them.

Despite getting exactly what he wanted Mello was in on edge for the rest of the day. Like a short fuse, it was only a matter of time until he exploded in someone's face. He was out the front doors the second the final bell rang, hoping to calm down before he did something he would regret. He was trying so hard to behave, causing less trouble in the months after his release from the hospital than he had throughout his entire existence. This keeping his nose clean business would have pained him, but after the fire he was positive that he could not feel pain anymore. In comparison to the blistering agony of that night, everything else was just a minor inconvenience… even the more metaphysical pains.

He chose to walk through the outskirts of town, where the surrounding nature tried to force its way into the concrete jungle of the city. It was failing of course, but walking through some of the more untamed parts of the carefully preserved park was enough to let him release the tension in his shoulders. It used to be some sort of forest, but it was reduced to some small biking trails, precisely placed benches, and a fishless pond full of algae. It could be walked in less than an hour, but Mello chose to wander aimlessly from tree to tree enjoying the crisp winter air. Anything to guarantee himself some privacy. His situation is precarious; he cannot afford to attract the wrong sort of attention.

By the time he wrestled some sort of control over himself, tenuous as it may be, it was barely four o'clock and he was already bored out of his mind. Yet, despite the added stress of being 'bored out of his mind' he refused to return to the local orphanage before dark. Mello can admit in all honesty that the facility, despite severely lacking funding, was not a bad place by any means. However, he cannot support the basis by which underpaid, overly cranky, and intellectually inferior social workers forced him to live there. It was a logical fallacy. He had a perfectly good house and copious amounts of money, all of which had been bequeathed solely to his name at his parents' passing. Yet, legally he was a child and couldn't yet access his family's assets—even if they weren't frozen pending an investigation. Through the course of his recovery he seriously considered legal emancipation, but his recuperation and subsequent physical therapy took over a year and considering how lengthy court proceedings are bound to be it was just easier to wait a few months until his eighteenth birthday. Patience was never his strong suit.

So, instead of further trying the scant vestiges of patience he still possesses in a house of affection deprived children and delinquent adolescents he sat under the first tree fat enough to lean into and unenthusiastically worked on his pathetically easy homework. It was astonishing how even while looking sullenly at the notebook on his lap, he noticed Matt the moment he stepped into his periphery. Damn his finely tuned senses!

Matt crossed the street—without looking both ways, for shame!—twiddling with a phone and palming restlessly at the pocket of his worn hoodie. He finished sending what Mello assumed was a text message, before continuing to walk at a steady but brisk pace. It was easy to remember where he lived, Mello had memorized his address the moment he had it in his possession, so it was easy to infer that he was on his way home. The most direct path being through the very park he was currently loitering in. This was how, in the midst of his high-strung gaze, Matt gave into the siren song of what turned out to be a pack of cigarettes in his pocket; only after he had already lit up did he notice Mello still sitting on the frigid ground. If his life were a movie this would be the perfect moment for a slow-mo close-up of Matt's reaction. As it was, it took less than five seconds for him to notice the other boy tense, watch the corner of his mouth twitch downwards and his eyes move passed him before walking decidedly down the paved pathway.

Queue overly dramatic music at the realization that he was once again being rejected by this boy. It didn't feel any better the second time around. Any progress he made during his stint at the park was unquestionably reversed. It was neither unexpected nor unfounded that Matt would turn his back on him. He used to bask in the warmth produced when Matt would ogle him, oblivious to the fact that he always noticed. Mello used to take great satisfaction when he could make the other blush a hue that put his hair to shame with nothing but a sly look or a flirty smile. He was used to people finding him attractive, but it especially pleased him that Matt was so visibly affected by his good looks.

Dejectedly tracing the rough desensitized patterns on the left side of his face he decided he couldn't blame Matt for being unable to look at him when he himself couldn't so much as pick up a mirror. A reflection wasn't necessary to know that he was disfigured; they made horror movies about guys like him—Nightmare on Elmstreet, Leatherface, the Phantom of the Opera. Needless to say none of those iconic staples of pop culture cinema ever got the girl… not that he wanted a girl anyway, but the notion is sound nonetheless.

A sudden influx of self-loathing left him paralyzed. No matter how many times he told himself this was what he wanted, that it was better to be alone, that Matt deserved better, he despised himself for feeling the pain of rejection. He knew it was coming. Mello knew that there was no way anyone could befriend a guy who had half his face melted off. It was repulsing. His attendance alone was enough to make his peers gag on their lunch—of course that's why he does it, but that's beside the point. Don't make the mistake of assuming he isn't always weighed down by the constant presence of his self-hatred, because he is. This time he hated himself for inflicting himself on the already reclusive boy. If he was ever a true friend to Matt he should have never returned because his mere presence was enough to undo any possible social growth the gamer could have underwent. This regression turned him into the same unapproachable, antisocial, misanthrope he was when Mello first took notice.

Once again he feels the same compulsion to befriend the loner, like the irresistible pull of magnet to its polar opposite.

* * *

**AN: Sorry for the slow updates, but I'm a full time Pre-Med student! When I'm stressed I'm STRESSED (in caps-lock). I have most of this story planned out, but my problem mostly lies in actually finding the time to write it instead of passing out in my bed the first moment I can. **

**With that said I have to say once again THANK YOU to everyone who reads and reviews and subscribes to this story! It's really difficult to even find the time to write something that isn't academic, so when I do it's the greatest thing ever when other people take the time to encourage me. So, thank you! Thank you! A hundred times thank you!**

**Also, it goes without saying that in 6 years when I'm a fully certified MD I'll make sure to get you guys the good drugs! ;) (Just kidding...mostly. I'm like 90% Joking.)**


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